


love him wicked

by herrlucifer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, this story is incredibly vague in general, vague allusions to a minor character death?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-13 19:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2162379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herrlucifer/pseuds/herrlucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is nine when she swears to herself that she will love him forever; love him till the world ends and the stars burn out and there are no more particles in this universe to remember the stories of days past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love him wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Title/inspiration from Emily Palermo's [On Loving A Monster](http://starredsoul.tumblr.com/post/94118270792/his-hands-shake-something-furious-and-you-dont).

  
She is nine when she swears to herself that she will love him forever; love him till the world ends and the stars burn out and there are no more particles in this universe to remember the stories of days past. She is still small, all freckles and tangled hair, but she does not doubt her promise for a moment. She knows she will keep it. She knows she couldn't break it if she tried.

He is nineteen, and he is, in some ways, smaller than her. His hands shake as he smiles and words are burnt into the back of his eyelids when he tries to sleep at night, so he stops trying, letting Lily stare curiously at the purple circles under his eyes, telling her stories until she dozes off and waiting for morning to come. He counts her breaths and in the darkness, he can almost convince himself that he's watching over her instead of a hiding from himself.

He's no guardian angel. If anything, he's the monster under her bed.

* * *

By the time she is fifteen, she has changed, though he cannot say how. Something is different about her smile- it is feral, angry; it's never quite as happy as it should be, and nobody can get it back to normal. He's not sure if they should try.

It is Christmas Eve and Ginny has sent them to the corner store for more cranberry juice. It's close enough to walk, and their shadows are larger than life in the streetlights- she is walking along, hands stuffed in her pockets, and she seems somehow peaceful.

“Lily,” he tries, though it comes out more tentatively than he wants. “I think I might- er, understand. You know-”

“Yeah, Ted,” she says before he can embarrass himself. He finds himself blushing against his will, but she just smiles, and it's fierce and honest and he wishes it didn't feel like looking in the mirror. “I know you do.”

She proceeds to laugh, grabbing his hand and swinging it like a child, but he can sense something shifting. She is not a girl and she is not a woman; she is an inferno, she is a wolf. She is waiting for him to stop hiding, but he's still running, six years later, and he is scared.

(In his dreams, the wolf catches him every time. She tears his guts out and smiles a crimson grin as he is born again.)

* * *

 "There's something wrong with me," he says earnestly. He has been acting more like a ghost than a person as of late, and she can't tell if he's not himself or if this is who he's always been. His hair has been a pale white for weeks. Lily finds herself missing the strange turquoise color she's always loved to make fun of.

"Who cares?" she says. Her voice is nonchalant as she stares at her fingernails, but her eyes blaze. "I don't, and I'm the only one that really matters." She isn't being egotistical; they both know it's true. The day Teddy Lupin needs someone other than Lily Potter is the day the sun collapses.

"You don't understand," he tells her, looking at her desperately. "It was _my fault_. Nobody believes me when I say it but it's true and it's- it's driving me crazy."

"Of course I understand," she says scornfully. She is a girl with a tongue sharper than scissors, and if she were speaking to anyone else her words would seem almost cruel. Teddy simply sighs, running his hand through his hair like he's trying to make sure he's still real.

She's been standing as he sits against the wall, but now she finally slides down next to him and leans against his shoulder. "Maybe it _is_ your fault." she murmurs. "I still don't care."

She falls asleep like that. He doesn't wake her up; just sits there till sunrise, till he falls asleep himself and forgets to dream.

 

* * *

"We should-" His voice is rough, and she responds with a slight nod as she arches her back, pressing him closer. 

"We should," she agrees, but she is breathless and teasing. They have waited too long for this, and now that his teeth are on her neck and her hands are in his hair she wonders  _why_. 

But soon he's picked her up and they're pressed against a wall, they've knocked over a lamp, they've finally made it to the bed- and after that, she doesn't think of anything at all.

Later, the light from the city will begin to shine in through his curtainless windows. She'll watch him, sprawled out and restless even in his sleep. She'll look at his hair, a faded blue, and see his ink-stained fingers entangled in hers.

She'll never save him.

She'll never need to.


End file.
